


All Bar None

by jestbee



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex on the bar, Smut, alternative universe, ben buys the vic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: Callum doesn't know if he wants a pub, he's never even thought about it.They should definitely have a conversation about Ben making big, life-changing decisions for the both of them without consulting him first, but for now, Ben is moaning and telling him to, "hurry up babe, please, I'm going to die here," and so Callum obliges.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	All Bar None

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned the idea of Ben and Callum owning the Vic and this idea sprung into my mind. It's completely alternative universe, and completely smutty. I apologise for nothing.
> 
> Thank you to the pals who read through this first and told me to enter this fandom with a splash... so to speak.

Callum stumbles and Ben catches him around the elbow. 

"Steady," Ben says. 

"What are we doing?" Callum asks. 

"Just a bit further." 

Callum holds a hand out in front of him and steps blindly forward. Ben stays behind; a hand on Callum's hip to guide him. 

"If I fall and crack my head I'm blaming you," Callum tells him. "You're a complete nutter."

"Shut up," Ben says, urging him onward. 'A crack on your head might do you some good. Step up."

Callum steps up, and then the wind stops and he can tell he's inside. 

"Where are we?" 

"Shush."

"Ben, it's three in the morning, I've got my pyjamas on under my coat, and a bloody blindfold on. Will you just tell me what's going on because I'm getting kidnappy vibes from you."

"Kidnappy?" 

Ben laughs at him from across a distance and Callum hears the distinct click of a lightswitch. He turns his head to the sound, even though he can't see anything. 

"Go on then," Ben says. "Take it off." 

Callum pulls the blindfold - which is just a pale grey tie looped around his eyes - off of his head, and finds himself standing in the middle of The Vic.

"What are we doing here?" 

Ben's face lights up, the way it sometimes does when Callum presses a kiss to the side of his neck or pushes his thumb into the corner of his mouth. 

"Fed up of people following me into the toilets, thought the only way to make it stop was to _own_ the toilets," Ben says. 

Callum grins because his boyfriend is ridiculous. "So, you… what? Bought the pub?" 

Ben moves closer, away from the bank of switches on the wall, and stalks forward until Callum is pushed up against the bar and the edge of it lodges in the small of his back. "Something like that, yeah."

"Bloody hell, Ben," Callum says, incredulous. "How?"

"Mick and Linda want out."

"Yeah, but, how can you afford it?" 

"Best not to ask," Ben says, with that expression that curls on his mouth and holds all his secrets. 

"Right."

Callum looks around the pub and Ben dips his head to drag his teeth against Callum's pulse point. He knows Callum likes that, and he's proven right because Callum makes a short, faint noise in his throat.

"Help me christen the place?" Ben asks. 

"You want to have a drink?" Callum asks, distracted by the line of kisses Ben is sucking along his neck.

"Come on now," Ben whispers. His breath is hot on Callum's skin and Callum shivers with it. "You're smarter than that."

"Not sure I'm... uh- You're making me a bit stupid." 

"Don't I always?" 

"Mmm," Callum hums. 

Ben does make him stupid. Stupid and wild and a little bit desperate all the time. It's never been like this with anyone before, he's never _wanted_ anyone the way he wants Ben. All the time. 

He pushes at Ben, and Ben goes easily. He's broader than Callum, and maybe stronger too so he could put up a fight if he wanted to, but he doesn't. He pushes Ben against the bar, his front to it so that Callum is bracketing him, a hand on either side, his chest flush with the warmth of his back. 

"There," Callum says. Ben makes a whining noise as Callum tugs on his coat, unbuttoning it easily and pushing it off so that it pools at their feet. "Not so stupid now."

"No " Ben agrees, the breath punched out of him. "No, God."

Callum takes off his own coat, abandoning it somewhere. Ben had dragged him out of his flat just as he was getting ready for bed so he only has his pyjamas on underneath, but Ben's body is warm even if the air in the pub is cool where it's sat unoccupied for a few hours.

"Do you even know how to run a pub?" Callum asks. 

He starts with the buttons on Ben's shirt, and Ben lets him do it, dropping his head back onto Callum’s shoulder. 

"Grew up in one," he says. 

"Yeah, but that don't mean you know how to run one."

"We'll figure it out."

Callum pauses where he's almost got Ben's shirt off. There's a scar on his ribs where the bullet entered, and dark hair fanned out near his navel. He's solid and warm, and he's saying things that make Callum's head spin. 

"We?"

"Beats being a copper, don't it?"

Callum doesn't answer, just pulls Ben's shirt the rest of the way off and then goes for his fly. 

"Left-hand pocket," Ben tells him. 

Callum reaches inside the pocket to find a small travel-sized bottle of lube and can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Did you plan this?" 

"Me?" Ben asks, "would I do such a thing?"

"Yes Ben Mitchell, you would."

Ben smirks.

"And I fucking love you for it," Callum says. 

They wind up with Ben bent over the bar and Callum working him open with two slick fingers. Ben's breath fogs up the shiny varnish of the bar and his hand braces around a Real Ale pump to steady himself. 

"Fuck," Ben says, pushing back against Callum's fingers, riding them. 

"Take them so well," Callum says. 

He loves watching his fingers disappear into Ben's body, Ben's hole clenching around them as he loosens up ready for his cock. 

"I'm ready," Ben says, rather than offer some quip about what he can or cannot take. He must be pretty far gone already if his smart mouth is giving it a rest. 

"I can do another," Callum says because he likes fingering him. He likes the dirty slide of it, how the lube squelches sometimes, all filthy and wet. He can watch it happen from here, the flush on Ben's skin, the way his face twists in pleasure. As soon as he's inside him all bets are off, because then he can't think of anything beyond _good_ and _yes_ and _more_.

"No," Ben says, his head rolling against the bar top. "Want it now, I like the stretch." 

"I know you do." Callum eases his fingers out and then tugs his pyjamas down his thighs to take out his cock. 

He smears the lube too quickly, there's way more of it than he needs but he doesn't care, just tosses the bottle behind him for someone else to deal with. 

Except it'll be them that has to deal with it, won't it? Ben owns this place now, it's his pub, and he'd said _we'll figure it out_ like it's a foregone conclusion that it will be Callum's pub too. 

Callum doesn't know if he wants a pub, he's never even thought about it. They should definitely have a conversation about Ben making big life-changing decisions for the both of them without consulting him first, but for now, Ben is moaning and telling him to, "hurry up babe, please, I'm going to die here," and so Callum obliges. 

He pushes into Ben in one easy, smooth stroke. They both shudder when he bottoms out and Callum pauses for a second, just rocking against him, feeling how tight he is. 

"Jesus," Callum says. 

"Actually it's Ben," Ben says, "but I'll take it." 

Callum wants to say _yeah you will_ , and then fuck him, hard, but he knows Ben will just mock him for the pun. So he settles for just the second part. 

Callum picks a punishing pace to start off with. Ben makes a startled, choked out noise from the off that gives way to a long moan of pleasure. 

"Fuck, babe, yes, holy shit," Ben babbles.

Callum slams into him, again and again. He pushes one hand onto the small of Ben's back for leverage and puts one foot on the golden rail at the base of the bar so he can get the angle he wants. Ben's hips cant upward, pushing back onto Callum’s cock, fucking himself like he can't get enough. 

The noise is obscene. The wet suck of lube around Ben's hole as Callum thrusts into him, the rattle of glassware under the bar that shifts with the heavy shake of their fucking.

The whole pub is empty, it's the middle of the night and no one is here but them, but it's just familiar enough to feel like they are doing something they shouldn't. Like they might be caught at any moment. 

"Oh God," Callum says when this thought hits him. 

"Yeah," Ben replies, "give it to me."

"I will," Callum promises, even as he is already doing it. "You feel so good. You always feel so fucking good." 

"So do you," Ben says.

"I love you," Callum says. 

He doesn't expect Ben to respond because sometimes for Ben the idea of bringing all of that mushy stuff into this part of their relationship is difficult. Like he's already too vulnerable that the words are just too much. He does release the beer pump though, and there's a dull thud as it slots back into place. His hand searches for Callum's and finds it on the bar by his hip. He slots their fingers together and squeezes. 

"I'm close," Ben says. 

"Yeah, yeah," Callum nods, even though Ben can't see him. "Me too." 

He slides his free hand around to take Ben's cock in hand and Ben bucks wildly.

"Ah," Ben grunts, "yes, there. Fuck." 

Callum drives his hips forward, keeps that regular pace he knows Ben likes. Deep, and hard, right to the edge of too much. He likes it to stretch on the way in, and then a bit too fast right at the end. Honestly, it's kind of hard work and Ben can be a bossy bitch about it when he wants to, but the gorgeous moans he makes and the way his eyes roll back when Callum does it just right make it so worth it. 

Callum doesn't have to do much by way of finesse on Ben's cock. He holds his fist tight around the length and Ben will piston his hips to push his cock into the tight grip and then right back to get more of Callum's cock. Like he doesn't know which one he wants more. 

"Gonna come," Ben warns him, which is more polite than he usually is. 

Callum wonders if he should do something to stop his boyfriend coming all over the bar top but honestly, he kind of likes it. It's another thing they'll need to deal with because Ben _owns_ this place now. But if Callum gets to remember this night every time he looks at the patch of the bar they've defiled from this day on, then he wants it to be one of them truly christening it in the filthiest way possible.

In the end, he does nothing to prevent it. He fucks Ben good and hard and long, and Ben shoots over his fist and right onto the reb-brown wood of the bar, a shiny sticky pool forming. Ben pants and shakes and shudders through it, and grunts with how sensitive he is when it's over.

"Want me to stop?" Callum asks. 

"Fuck no," Ben says, "come in me. Come on." 

He braces on the bar, his hand sliding in the slick smears of his own release, and that just makes it hotter. Callum is so wound up that it isn't going to take long, not with Ben urging him on and tears gathering at the corners of his eyes with how overwhelming it is. 

Ben likes this. The part where Callum carries on after, even though it's a lot. He's told Callum that in moments like this it's like everything fades out, all that exists is him and Callum and the big, overwhelming feelings taking them over. 

Callum comes with a groan. He pushes his cock as far into Ben as it will go and Ben rides out each pulse of it with a rock of his hips, milking each pump of Callum's orgasm as it floods deep inside him. 

When it's over, Callum slumps forward over Ben's back and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. 

"Shit," Callum says.

"Yeah."

"You want a drink?" 

Callum laughs, full-bodied and loud into the silence of the pub. "Sure," he says, and he gets up on shaking legs to right his clothes. 

Ben climbs down from the bar, and he takes a few moments to gather himself before holding his pants up with one hand and tottering off towards the bathrooms. 

"Going to the loo to clean off, don't follow me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Callum smiles, "you own the place." 

When Ben is gone, Callum cleans down the bar with a cloth and some cleaning solution he finds in the back. It smells faintly chemically and it's a bright shade of pink so it will do a good job of sanitising it. As much as Callum likes the idea of defiling the pub in theory, in practice, he doesn't want to leave any evidence. 

When he's done, and it is suitably clean, Callum pours them each a pint. He still remembers how, and he figures they can do what they want now, considering. 

Ben arrives back, all buttoned into his clothing and his hair back neat like nothing ever happened. Unflappable, once again, the calm and collected Mitchell that he always wants to be. 

They take their drinks and sit at one of the tables like they're just having a pint on a regular night. It's quiet, and Ben only turned on one overhead light so the rest of them are dark. Corners of the pub hide in dim pockets like there are secrets tucked into every alcove. 

They drink in silence, minds wandering over what this new venture really means.

"Hey, does this place have CCTV?" Callum asks, suddenly stricken with the idea of being caught on tape. 

"After all the dodgy stuff that's gone down in this pub? I doubt it. I bloody wish it did though."

"I don't think what we just did needs to be captured on video."

"Are you kidding?" Ben says, "that one is straight in the wank bank." 

Callum rolls his eyes and sips at his beer. 

"What do you think then?" Ben asks, after a while. "Wanna own a pub?"

Callum looks out at the rows of tables, the chairs tipped up so the morning cleaners can hoover the floors. It's been his local for ages, it's where he met Ben for the first time. It's also where his wedding reception would have been, and where he faced off against his dad. The Vic is a lot of things, to a lot of people, and it is to him, too. 

Ben has demons here. Hiding in the rooms upstairs, where his dad tortured him and made him think he wasn't worth anything without his approval. 

He thinks about doing this, with Ben. About those rooms becoming _their_ rooms and maybe that's getting ahead of himself but Ben did ask him like it's his too if he wants it.

The Vic can be something else now, maybe. Something without all the ghosts. Something theirs.

"Yeah," he says, holding his glass aloft. "Let's do it."

Ben's glass clinks against his and they cheers to the deal. 

"Let's do it."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://jestbee.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jestbee) @jestbee


End file.
